


Where is My Mind?

by Meilan_Firaga



Category: Kong: Skull Island (2017)
Genre: Emotional, Other, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 19:16:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14960522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meilan_Firaga/pseuds/Meilan_Firaga
Summary: James Conrad isn't sleeping. His thoughts are a jumbled mess, and are strangely centered around a creature he's recently encountered.





	Where is My Mind?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetcarolanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/gifts).



James Conrad shot awake in bed, panting as though he’d been running for hours. His body was hot, and the chill of cooling sweat brought on a riot of shivers. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the dreams. He’d seen many terrible things in his years in the SAS--including a series of events involving a young girl and several men under his command that haunted his every waking hour--but for the most part his nights had remained largely undisturbed. While he’d not been devoid of nightmares, they didn’t harass him on a nightly basis like he’d seen with so many soldiers over the years. At least, they hadn’t. While he sometimes had trouble getting to sleep a few nights a week, he’d never been sleepless so long that every atom in his body vibrated with the desperate need for rest. At least, he never had before.

Everything changed after The Island.

It hadn’t been noticeable when he and Weaver had been held by Monarch. The adrenaline high was still rolling strong, pushing his body through the aftermath of the ordeal with little concern for the sleep he wasn’t getting. His mind was too busy whirling over the events of the previous few days and struggling to process how rapidly things had changed to focus on something so trivial as his own emotional wellbeing. Then, of course, there was the added pile of information regarding the possibility of other creatures like the ones he’d just encountered. He hadn’t hesitated to sign on when he was asked, eager for an chance to make sense of what so many men had died for.

Only after he’d settled into his new apartment in the states did he discover that he hadn’t come back from Skull Island the same. Packard he had understood. Seeking retribution for the loss of men was an ideology that he was intimately familiar with, no matter how little he chose to talk about what retribution he’d sought in the past. The scientists, as well, were easy to understand. Those possessed of intellect had a startling tendency to seek answers with little regard to the consequences of finding those answers. Weaver, even, was understandable. She felt a righteous need to inform the people of the world of every goings-on that might be hidden from them.

Understanding himself, however, was practically an impossibility. James had always felt that he knew himself down to the smallest detail. He was not in the habit of lying to himself or viewing the world around him through rose-tinted lenses. He knew what he was (a soldier, a failure, a man who had much to atone for) and he held no fanciful ideas of being anything else. He was not a dreamer, an idealist, or a romantic. He was facts-oriented, and the facts were that he’d encountered a king amongst monsters whose greatest purpose was to protect his world from the monsters that were undoubtedly worse. Those facts did not explain why every time he tried to sleep he found his thoughts taken by a pair of brown eyes--each the size of his own head--that were filled with a sadness he couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

Kong’s reaction to their presence was to be expected given what they’d woken beneath the surface of the island. The great creature had no reason to trust any one of them. Yet, he’d taken a moment to let rage quiet into curiosity when James stood with Weaver atop the jungle cliff the night Packard had made his final stand. It was that moment that played over and over in James’ mind. He saw the darting eyes, searching for compassion in a world that had suddenly erupted. He felt the warmth of every exhale as Kong breathed upon them. When he couldn’t sleep, it was memories of Kong’s sorrow and loneliness that kept him awake. When he woke from dreams it was thoughts of Kong that forced his consciousness.

If he didn’t know any better he would think that he was smitten, but James Conrad was a practical man. He simply couldn’t-- _ wouldn’t _ \--admit to that sort of feeling. He wasn’t a lover of monsters by nature, particularly when he would easily disappear into said monster’s hand. The thought alone was ludicrous. Men were not meant to feel the excited thrum of blood in their veins at the thought of a creature who would see them as little more than an ant. It was not an acceptable sort of thing to think of such a creature and feel such a strong kinship that would dwarf any experience of human attachment, and yet James found his mind trained upon Kong in that very manner. For the first time, he was unsure that he completely understood his own mind. The very thought was terrifying.

The emotions, of course, were not actually the worst of it. When he woke from the dreams he found himself in a state that was nothing less than distressing--hard and hot and aching. It had been years since he’d awakened so aroused so frequently, and the fact that he was doing so after dreaming of Kong was easily the most confusing thing he’d ever encountered. He imagined little more than lying in that massive palm as he stroked himself to completion each night, but it was enough to color his cheeks and jumble his thoughts. He’d tried, of course, to imagine literally anything else. Inevitably, no matter where he directed his mind he would find himself imagining jungle heat and the warmth of that leathery hand when the white hot fire of release chased its way up his spine.

He almost thought he was going mad.

Some days he wasn’t sure if his thoughts were genuine interest or the result of his mind trying to rationalize what he’d been through. Other days he was sure beyond any shadow of a doubt that he’d finally found something worth losing sleep over. Either way, he knew at least one thing for certain: returning to Skull Island was the only course of action he could think of to find some sort of answer to his situation. 

It was that certainty that brought him to jump ahead of Monarch’s plans. Another expedition to Skull Island wasn’t on the schedule for at least a year, and he wasn’t sure he could hold up for that long. He was in Manila before Brooks had even discovered he’d left town. It wasn’t exactly easy to find sailors willing to brave the storm around Skull Island, but the proper application of money and threats did the job well enough. He mailed a tape back to headquarters listing his intentions on his way to the docks to board the boat he’d hired. Madness or not, he was going back. 

Even if it killed him, he would stand before Kong again.


End file.
